


I Don't Want to Wake Up (ACoTaR prompts)

by mysterious_victoria



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Original Character(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:50:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysterious_victoria/pseuds/mysterious_victoria
Summary: Prompts where you, dear reader, are the main focus. You are placed in Prythian with The Court of Dreams and their friends. The scenarios and genres change with each character and prompt. All of your favorites will make an appearance, even some that you didn't think would be your favorites. Open to requests for characters and/or prompts, even repeat prompts with different characters.Rating and warnings may change over time! Please look at notes for relevant information. I do not own anything belonging to SJM and ACoTaR.





	1. Monthly Pains (Azriel)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! I was inspired by aelin-and-feyre’s “Preferences” on Tumblr to create some of my own writings in this style. (Highly recommend, especially for the ToG fans out there too!)
> 
> This is my first piece on ao3, so please let me know how I do and what you want to see next in the comments.
> 
> Prompt: Comforting S.O. on her period  
> Character: Azriel  
> This is emotional--you have been warned.

You can’t help the groan that escapes from your lips, but your body seems to think it needs to rip itself into shreds before this cycle is finished. As another unbearably strong wave of pain erupts from your lower body, you ever so slowly—for fear of inadvertently sending another bout of pain through you—roll your face into the pillow, banding your arms around your abdomen tighter. Out of habit, as a few tears escape, you completely bury your face into the pillow. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t anything to be ashamed of, you _hate_ crying, especially because of this. All you want, besides this pain that makes you feel like you’re being stabbed and burned simultaneously to stop, is your mate.

Who is currently off on another mission. You don’t know how far away he is or what he’s doing this time. Your mind is too muddled to try and connect with him on your bond. It’s not even that you’re upset he’s away because this is his job, as you have yours. But as more tears slide down your cheeks from this pain continuing to ravage you, you just really, _desperately_ need his presence.

You would be there for another hour, though it felt like hours to you, until Cassian banged open your balcony doors. He was going on about how you were late and beginning to rattle off the laps he was going to make you do… that is until he saw your face.

“What happened? Who did this to you?” he demands. His wings expand, covering the sunlight coming from the doors. His hands are fists at his sides, and his Siphons are starting to gleam. Ever since the Inner Circle knew about you and Azriel being mates, and especially because Azriel was the last of the Inner Circle to find his mate, all of them had become overly protective, and each had their own quirky way of doing it. Cassian’s behavior fit his personality well, so if anything, you are almost touched that he wants to destroy what is causing you to be in pain.

“It’s my body,” your voice croaks.

“Your body?” he repeats.

“My cycle,” you clarify before biting down on your lip. At first, you’re embarrassed to tell Cassian this. Cauldron knows you didn’t want anyone besides your mate and a healer to know. However, you feel another wave coming, slowly building up its strength before it unleashes itself. You try to rock it away, but it doesn’t seem to be working. The embarrassment goes away quickly.

Cassian, to say the least, looks perturbed. “I didn’t think that a woman’s cycle could do this.” He shakes his head and comes closer, his posture relaxing. “What do you need?”

“Az, and a healer,” you barely manage to get out. You cry out as it spears through you, and you clutch your body as tightly as you can, naively hoping your grip will cancel out some of the pain.

“I’m on it,” Cassian growls before running out the open balcony doors.

You don’t know how much time has passed now because you had to roll over on your other side to alleviate the pain. You don’t dare move, now that it seems to have calmed. You close your eyes and breathe slowly. The next time you open your eyes, it is because of a familiar and welcome tug in your mind. Your mate, wreathed in shadows, stalks to your bedside. He is furious, his seven Siphons pulsating and glowing as if they will explode out of their encasement, and the shadows extend to you, roaming over your body through the bed covers.

“I’m here,” Az says, quietly.

“I’m sorry,” you say, though you don’t know why you say it.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” he assures, sending a burst of love through the bond to soothe your thoughts. It makes you breathe a bit better. He kneels down and cups your face in his hands, wiping away the dried tear tracks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.” He kisses your temple before searching your eyes. “What can I do?”

“Hold me,” you say, and you hate that it comes out like a whimper.

He is about to when the healer comes in. You know the healer well; this isn’t the first time he’s seen you in this state.

“How bad is it this time?” the healer asks you. “Worse than the last time I saw you?”

You go to respond, but a gasp comes out of you instead as a completely unexpected eruption of burning pain takes over the right side of your body. Azriel’s hands tighten their grip on your cheeks, and he leans his forehead against yours as he shushes you, stroking his thumbs over your cheekbones. He lets you rock and whispers to you as the pain subsides. Azriel kisses your forehead again when you nod, letting him know that the pain has gone, before he stands and talks to the healer.

The healer explains the problem, why this is more severe than a normal cycle due to the cysts, how there is nothing yet that medicine can do to fix or eradicate the problem, and prescribed some tonics and remedies that would help the pain to subside. As your mate nods and asks a few more questions, his shadows and their phantom hands massage your back. This causes more tears to escape because as much as you love the shadows and what they were doing, you want the male that comes with them.

When the healer leaves, Azriel is beside you, gently easing himself onto the bed behind you in an attempt to not jostle you. He strokes your hair as his other arm joins yours around your abdomen. He entwines his scarred fingers between yours and squeezes them. The warmth of his body and that of the shadows seeps into you, and you lean fully back into him. _How were you so lucky to deserve him?_

“It’ll be all right,” he whispers as he rocks you slowly. He kisses your neck before continuing, “I won’t leave, unless you need or want me to.”

You move the hand you have grasped in yours to your lips and kiss it. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Lots of love ~ mysterious_victoria
> 
> Next prompt: Dancing for seemingly no reason


	2. The Power of Dance (Mor)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! Thank you to those who left kudos and comments--seriously made my day seeing those notifications. I hope you enjoy this one; it's a dump of fluffy goodness. 
> 
> Prompt: Dancing for seemingly no reason  
> Character: Mor

When you wake to the sunlight drifting in, you are surprised not to see your lover there. She usually sleeps much later than you do, especially on the weekends. You slip on a loose pajama shirt and shorts and head downstairs. As you unconsciously wrap your hair in a loose bun, the smell of eggs and bacon waft up the stairwell, and what makes you stop dead in your tracks, mid step, is the _humming_.

As there are only the two of you in the house, you know it’s your lover, but you had no idea she could sing too. Dancing, yes. Cauldron, the female never passed up an opportunity to meet at Rita’s to just dance the night away. You thought, before meeting her, that you enjoyed and harassed your friends into dancing, but your lover takes that to a new level. And you love it.

The smile continues to grow bigger as you take in your lover from behind, the way her luscious blonde hair curls down her back, the way her hips move to the tune she’s humming… When you reach her, caressing her hip and kissing her neck, she gives into a chuckle.

“Morning,” she greets with a sensuous smile.

“Good morning, sleep well?” you ask. She nods and kisses you softly.

“I did. I hope you’re as hungry as I am because… well, I made a lot.”

You laugh as you take in the amount of pans of cooking food that covers every single burner. Bacon, eggs, sauteed vegetables, and pancakes, and some of them had already been plated off to the side. “Morrigan, you could feed an entire army with this,” you tease, squeezing her waist before getting plates and cups from the cabinets.

You open a window, not because of the smell of the food—it’s making your stomach growl in anticipation—but to bring some fresh, cool air into the kitchen. Mor’s lovely golden cheeks are flushed, and though you think she looks incredibly pretty with the coloring, you know it is not any type of arousal that is causing her flush. Unsurprisingly, as soon as you open the window, you can hear the music playing not so far off, probably down the street. It is a nice tune, a beat that makes you bop from foot to foot as you move to set up the island with the plates and cups in hand. As you grab the utensils, Mor slips around you to place the plated bacon in front of one plate and a hot skillet with eggs in front of the other. Before she asks the question, you reach over for a hot plate and slide it under the elevated skillet. She glances up at you and puts it down, gliding back into the kitchen.

The musicians add a trumpet into the melody, and it’s your weakness. You love trumpets and how their sound enriches and compliments the other instruments. You move your hips in time with tempo and dance in a circle, basking in the trumpets long notes and sharp jabs to make the music swell—until you catch Mor’s taken aback expression.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re dancing,” Mor states, her confusion clear in her tone.

“I don’t need to be at Rita’s to dance,” you tell her, simply. You laugh as you say, “Most days, I don’t need a reason to dance. I just dance.”

She raises her eyebrows at you before plating the pancakes and turning off the burners. You still dance, unfazed until the tune changes. It’s a song you know! You gasp and start dancing wholeheartedly. When she appears in front of you with a mischievous grin, you don’t know what it means. But she takes your hands before you can say anything. She leads you into a swing, in spite of the cramped space that the kitchen offers.

“Mor!” you exclaim as she spins you quickly. You crash into her body when she forces you to stop, and she takes full advantage of your surprise, her hands only pulling you closer. Her lips ghost the shell of your ear with a soft kiss that sends pleasant shivers down your spine. She doesn’t stop, pulling you back into the dancing and leaving your body reeling from the teasing contact that you did not think would have this much of an effect on you. You think of a way to tease her back, but suddenly your world has stopped moving. When you catch your breath, you feel the wall behind you. Both of you are breathing heavily and stare at each other. Mor, in a span of minutes, is practically glowing with happiness with that smile almost on her lips.

“I know we were very, _very_ good last night,” you tell her, to which she sultrily hums in agreement, looping her arms over your neck. Her fingers move in soothing circles at your nape, loosening the bun there. “But is there something _else_ that’s made you so happy? You’re glowing.”

“It’s been… a long time, or Cauldron it feels like a long time anyway, that I’ve been at ease with a lover.” She smiles genuinely at you as you can feel your face changing in shock. “I’m very glad it’s you and that we can have this time, this _peace_ , together. That we can dance for seemingly no reason and be ourselves.”

You force a breath out when you realize you are holding it in. “Och, you’re…” You don’t even know what to say.

The way she says peace makes you think of the war. How it was three years where peace was broken, Velaris violated and decimated thanks to Hybern and his legions, and how all those that were able fought with the rest of the Night Court and the rest of the courts in Prythian to destroy that threat. You know that Mor is older than you, and she has experienced much more than you in many aspects. She even told you that it is hard for her to be completely open about her preference for females in public. You understand and were very similar for most of your life. You hid who you truly were from your friends and family, but most of them didn’t mind when you eventually opened up. You still respect Mor for wanting to keep it low-key. However, something about what she’s just said has opened up a part of you that you didn’t know was there.

You cup her cheeks before telling her, “You deserve to be at ease and have peace. I’m…” You swallow before smiling and confessing, “I’m very glad that you can be yourself with me. Because you are amazing, and I’m the luckiest female in Prythian.”

Mor’s answering smile has your heart pounding through your chest before she leans down to kiss you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Lots of love ~ mysterious_victoria
> 
> Next prompt: Hugging after a long time away from one another


	3. Diplomacy (Lucien)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! Thank you to those who left kudos and comments--seriously made my day seeing those notifications. 
> 
> This one is a bit short, but I hope it's enjoyable and makes you like everyone's favorite fox a bit more. 
> 
> Prompt: Hugging after a long time away from one another  
> Character: Lucien

It’s been two weeks. You understand of course why he had to go. As he is now heir to the High Lord of Day Court, you  _ want _ him to learn as much as he can. For Cauldron’s sake, you even pushed for some further experience and suggested the idea of him meeting other courts as Helion’s heir. You just didn’t think completely through your plan when you realized he wouldn’t be able to just winnow back and see you. He needed to appear in a certain way, and that was not as a would-be High Lord too attached to his lover. He thoroughly assured and reassured you that night and following morning before he left that if he could, he would winnow back to you every night. Reminders of his assurances on your skin started to fade a few days after he left. 

In his absence, you have been familiarizing yourself with the layout of the court, physically and politically. The Lady of the court, Lucien’s mother and now Helion’s newly declared wife and mate, has been helping you significantly in that area, as she herself is doing the same. You often have lunch with her, and though when you first met she seemed rather quiet and reserved, she has since proved that to be untrue. The tediousness and complications of the Day Court’s politics and the vastness of its land, which was not something you were aware of, coming from another court, were much easier to understand with someone to talk through it with you. 

You are having lunch with her currently, talking about one of the libraries near your room when you suddenly hear the deep rumbling laugh of the High Lord. You can’t help but wheel around in your seat. Helion claps Lucien on the shoulder as he continues talking to his group of advisors. You stand as Lucien finds your gaze and stares intensely back at you. He has adapted to the Day Court’s formal wear, which does not allow for anything to be left to the imagination. You can see the powerful outline of your lover’s body in the wrap of dark cobalt. As he shifts to turn and listen to one advisor, you notice that his gaze is still on you, but now drinking in every inch of how  _ you  _ look in the Day Court’s attire. When the advisors are dismissed, Helion glances at you before smiling. He strides in your direction, but you know he is going to the female you had been sitting with for the last hour or so. 

You and Lucien walk towards one another, rather quickly. Once you are in arm’s length of your lover, you clutch the fabric at his chest and pull him to you. Hearing his intake of breath, so that he can take in your scent—much like you are with his—you allow yourself to lean fully onto him. The feel of his strong, muscled arms and his broad chest is home, making the tension in your shoulders and mind dissipate. You gasp as one of his strong arms goes under your knees, and Lucien spins you. You cry out in shock, closing your eyes as he continues to spin you faster than before, his bright laugh ringing all around you. When he finally stops, he doesn’t set you down on the ground, but squeezes you closer to him. This makes you open your eyes.  


“Hello my dear,” Lucien purrs into your ear. His dazzling, glowing smile alone makes your smile emerge and makes that tingling sensation run throughout your body. “I’ve missed you.” 

“You were gone longer than we bargained for,” you remind him. You had not forgotten that he also promised in your lovemaking to be back in ten days. Today officially makes it fourteen days. 

He hummed in agreement. “How shall I remedy that, milady?” he asks, softly and quietly. 

Several different ways, one for each day more you spent apart, but first you just want to relax and be with him. 

“Put me down.” He does so, very gently. “Let’s go.” 

You take his hand and walk to your room. Once you’re inside, Lucien removes the gold armlets and bands and places them on the top of the dresser before you launch yourself at him. He laughs as he wraps his arms around you, swaying ever so slightly. 

“I missed you too,” you say into his shoulder as he squeezes your body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Lots of love ~ mysterious_victoria
> 
> Next prompt: Nightmares


	4. Wings and Ruin (Cassian)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! 
> 
> Prepare for seriously sad feelings ahead. Title is taken from ACOWAR because it involves both wings and ruin after the battle with Hybern.
> 
> Prompt: Nightmares  
> Character: Cassian

You wake up with an “oomph” and a pain in your stomach. You are about shove Cassian over until one of his wings, wrapped in a blanket, smashes into your face. Then you hear his heavy breathing and panting, incoherent words. You roll out of the bed to avoid the thrashing body next to you, and you run to the end of the bed to figure out the best way to go about this. His wings and legs are caught up in the covers, and he looks like he’s trying to attack something.

_Cassian, wake up._

You climb up onto the bed and pin his legs.

_Cassian, wake up!_

He thrashes worse than before and actually lets out a half-roar. You jump off his legs and crawl next to him. You grab his face and slap him, hard.

_CASSIAN!_

You’re about to go in for another slap, usually a surefire way to get him to wake up, when you’re suddenly and harshly overturned. He looms over you, the two Siphons on his hands gleaming.

“CASSIAN!” You shout at him and down your bond.

Two bright red lights form at his hands. You winnow out of the way in time and see that there are now two smoking holes in the bed.

“CASSIAN, WAKE UP!”

He falls back down to the bed, and when his face hits the pillows, you run back to him. He whirls around and wakes up. You freeze, stopping unintentionally halfway across the room. He takes in his surroundings with wide eyes, kneeling on the bed. His chest heaves, and you are overwhelmed by his emotions that are unfiltered and coursing through the bond—the rage of the Lord of Bloodshed, the fear of a bastard born Illyrian, and the confusion of a male that thought he was back on the battlefield. His eyes slide to you, and his body and wings slump in defeat as he realizes what’s happened. You quickly walk over to him.

“I’m so sorry—”

“It’s all right—”

“Did I—?”

“No, I’m fine, unharmed,” you tell him. Before you can do anything or say more, he pulls you to him and buries his face in the crook of your neck. His hands splay protectively over your back before curling in your loose, tangled hair as his arms tighten around your back, pinning your arms to your sides. “Cass—”

“I’m so sorry.”

You freeze again. His voice is strained, and as he inhales, he trembles and pulls you even closer to the point that it’s starting to hurt. That’s when you feel something wet hit your skin, and your stomach twists and coils in on itself. You wriggle your arms free, making Cassian readjust his grip, but you hold him just as tightly. You swallow, finding it hard to do so as the wetness grows on your neck and as his body shakes more. You hold his head, running a hand through his sweaty hair. You grimace at the exposed scar on your arm, hating it more than ever because this is one of the many things that causes your mate to have nightmares. The two of you stay there for uncounted minutes until his shaking subsides. When it does, when his breathing has bettered, you kiss the top of his head and cup his face, lifting it to meet yours. His bloodshot eyes roam your face, and he leans in, pressing his lips softly to yours.

“I better untangle your wings,” you tell him softly, remembering his wings only because they move sporadically.

He looks behind him, his lips twitching in amusement at the bed sheets that are wrapped around his sensitive, slowly healing wings, and he straightens them out for you. You unwrap his wings as quickly and gently as you can, not wanting to irritate the bandaged wings. When you have the end of the bed sheets in your hands, Cassian guides you both back onto bed, only to see the holes he created in his nightmare state. He forcefully exhales and wipes his face.

“We can get a new mattress, or have one of the others look at it tomorrow,” you assure him, running a hand up and down his arm. A gnawing sense of guilt comes over you. You used your limited magic just to get out of the way and now can’t fix the bed. Rationally, you know it’s stupid to think like that, and Cassian would certainly agree. That doesn’t help matters, especially as you take in his drawn and defeated expression.

“I guess it’s a good thing I picked an apartment with two bedrooms,” he says.

The room that was yours—the sheets freshly changed and where you still kept all of your belongings. Not intentionally, you meant to change that before the battle. That would, you hope, become a guest room or… something even more precious. But when Hybern destroyed the wall, the timeline and everything had changed, and all of them were only starting to get back to normal. You know that, much like tonight, this would not be an unusual occurrence for a long while yet.

Since the battle, you have been sleeping beside Cassian. He told you so that it was he could protect you in case of rogue agents of Hybern wanting another shot at killing the female they knew was his weakness. You told yourself it was because it would assure yourself that you had both made it out of the battle, that as nightmares plagued you, that you could be with the one who would calm and soothe your soul. Unfortunately, he has been the one that has needed the calming more than you.

You grab his hand now, entwining your fingers with his, which he squeezes in turn before you make your way down the hall. Everything was as you left it.

“I’m just… going to freshen up first.”

“All right.”

He heads into the bathroom a step or two behind, and you enter the room. You go to the window and unlatch it, letting in the night breeze. You untuck the neat sheets and look around the room absentmindedly. Maybe after the mattress is fixed tomorrow, you will start moving your belongings into his room. Suggest that sharing a bed permanently is the next step, one you are ready to take.

“Are you all right?” he asks, walking into the room. You shake your head out of its reverie and nod, meeting his eyes.

“I want to move my things into your room tomorrow.”

Cassian’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but there is a hint of happiness in his eyes as he takes your hands. “We can do that.” The two of you climb under the sheets and blankets. Cassian bands his arms around you, nuzzling his face into your neck, and you rub his back. “Can you do something for me?” he requests.

“What is it?” you ask as you run your fingers through his hair, willing to do anything to rid him of the tension in his body and mind.

“Can you sing that song?”

You know which song he wants without clarification. The effect of your singing is immediate, and regardless of your voice cracking on the familiar high and low notes, the tension is leaving his body. Thankfully, Cassian falls back asleep quickly and does not see or feel the tears that are streaming down your face by the time you finish the song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Lots of love ~ mysterious_victoria
> 
> Next prompt: Meeting the family/friends


	5. Illuminations (Helion)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! Thank you to those who left kudos and comments--seriously made my day seeing those notifications. 
> 
> This is one is a bit unusual and longer than the others so far, but I really enjoyed writing this. I hope this particular character is explored more in the spin-off novels! 
> 
> Note on this one: gets a little steamy in the beginning (when you see the character, it will become apparent why)
> 
> Prompt: Meeting the family/friends  
> Character: Helion

You move around for what seems like the millionth in the bed before sighing dramatically. Though you love the Day Court’s beauty, you wished you were seeing the back of your eyelids rather than the moon again. That’s when you hear the door to the suite open softly. You try to pretend to be asleep when your hear his soft footfalls across the marble floor. The hiss of his clothing sliding off his body turns your thoughts to your mate. This past week, by the time he was coming to bed, you had been asleep. You inwardly groan at this knowledge, realizing it must be even later than you expect. You close your eyes and regulate your breathing, hoping that as he climbs into the bed he doesn’t notice you’re awake. This fails spectacularly, however, when his stark naked body molds against your back, and you involuntarily jerk in surprise.

“How long have you been tossing and turning?” _Do not say anything. Maybe he’ll think you’re asleep_ … “I know you’re awake.”

“I lost count at midnight,” you eventually grumble, still not facing him.

His strong arm slides overs your stomach and brings you even closer to him. “What’s on your mind?” his sleepy voice asks before pressing a light kiss onto your bare shoulder.

“Nothing.”

“Darling…”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me the truth.”

This time, you turn around and look at him. His eyes narrow in concern as you hesitate, his hand stroking your back. “I know I shouldn’t be… but I am a bit nervous about tomorrow.”

“And how would you like me to remedy your anxiety?” Helion asks, bringing his free hand to cup your cheek. His fingers trace your face, down your nose, your mouth… your jawline… “Shall I…” He leans in, his lips gently brushing yours. “Do this?” He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk before pressing his lips to the hollow of your neck. Your breath hitches, and his hold on you tightens. “Or this?” He shimmies your nightshirt up and _so slowly_ licks his way up in between your breasts, your body arching into his. He huffs out a breathy laugh. “Or perhaps…” An image flashes in your mind, of Helion worshiping you and your body, and of one of his favorite courtiers, the handsome dark-skinned Fae who keeps eyeing you in meetings, kissing your—

“You filthy prick!” You cry before claiming his lips, smothering his laugh into your mouth.

It takes all of your strength, and some luck, to push him over onto his back as you keep kissing. You break it to purposely, slowly straddle him. His eyes light up in recognition of your thoughts, and his hands settle on your hips. A sultry smile finds its way to your lips as you please your lover, your mate, your High Lord until you are both breathless and exhausted that you fall asleep.

When you wake up, it is because the door opens with a bang.

“High Lord, I must insist—”

Faster than you can see, Helion hurls a pillow at the advisor. “I’ll see you _when_ I want to see you. Now, get out!”

“Apologies, High Lord,” the advisor mumbles behind the closed door. Helion collapses back onto the bed with an agitated exhale. He rubs his face as you place your hand on his chest, right above his thundering heart.

“I’m sorry,” Helion says, his voice gentle. He covers your hand with his, and you turn on your side to look at him closely.

“Thank you for last night.”

The devilishly smug smile on his face makes you want to repeat last night. “I should be thanking you. That was the best monogamous sex I’ve had in centuries.”

“You know where to find me for more.”

His expression turns serious as a dangerous, sensual glint enters his eyes, sending your insides on a whirlwind. He is seriously considering going for round two. He _wants_ round… well, you very much surpassed round two last night, but that’s hardly the point.

“I would keep us in here all day if I could,” he says. “Maybe tomorrow I will.”

“High Lord Tarquin is visiting tomorrow, remember?”

“Well, maybe he’d want to join us,” he purrs, angling his mouth over yours with that damned seductive smirk.

“So demanding,” you tease against his lips before he silences you with a kiss.

The day is long and tedious, and you’re practically counting the minutes until you and Helion go to meet your family for dinner. Your stomach is so tightly coiled in knots by the time you get ready that you think you’re going to vomit. That would be a great reason not to go— _sorry Mom and Dad, I got sick before dinner! Can’t make it tonight, we’ll reschedule?_ You roll your eyes at yourself. Stupid wishful thinking. But honestly, you’d rather face your parents and family with their High Lord as your mate than vomit. The fact that this enters your thoughts makes you stop applying kohl and seriously look at your reflection. _You’d rather face your parents and family with their High Lord as your mate than vomit from the nervousness._ You put the rest of the cosmetics you were going to put on away and go back into the bedroom.

When you emerge from the bathroom, Helion freezes. He stares at your reflection in the mirror on the dresser for long moments before turning around to face you. His wide-eyed gaze takes in every inch of you, and you don’t realize your fidgeting with your bracelets until he comes up to you and stops your hands from the nervous play work.

“You are breathtaking,” he breathes, squeezing your hands gently.

“Stop,” you say, feeling the heat creep up your neck.

“No, you’re going to have to get used to this,” he says. “Because you can’t change how radiant you are, especially when you become my lady.”

“What did you just say?” you demand, now feeling breathless.

“Not right now, I’m a bit old-fashioned in that sense,” Helion explains, a wondrous smile growing as he states, “but one day, _soon_ , you will be the Lady of Day Court.”

There are no words to describe this new nugget of news, and his expression changes to concern as you remain silent.

“Are you—?”

“What does this mean?” you override him. He’s never said the words, but because of the mating bond, you think it’s just been there. However, you have heard of horrible experiences with the mating bonds, and though the Day Court is known for its vast knowledge, it doesn’t always seem to translate into practice. Helion’s brow scrunches in confusion, and he shakes his head. “I need to you to tell me what this means.” You may be two hundred years younger, but you are not _that_ much of a fool. Most of the time.

His face relaxes, and he laces his fingers between yours. “It means that I love you. I wanted to wait until after we met your family, but,” he huffs out a laugh, “I couldn’t not tell you after seeing you like this, after this morning, last night…”

“I love you too.”

The glow that your mate takes on, one that you have been fortunate to witness on several different occasions, a few of which you know were caused by you, is brighter than you have ever seen it now. He is literally blinding you as he wraps his arms around you. You have to close your eyes, but then you feel his lips on yours.

“Don’t smudge my lipstick,” you reprimand, pulling away. Smudged lipstick would be a _fantastic_ way to greet your parents.

“Not now,” he growls, sending goosebumps up your skin.

“If I open my eyes, are you going to blind me?”

“No, I’ve reined it in.”

You open one eye tentatively, and he chuckles before flashing that glow at you. “Prick!”

“But you love me.”

“Hmm, yes.”

“And I love you. Let’s go meet your family.”

“I’m not opening my eyes until we get to my house.”

He cackles in laughter as you grab his hand and winnow to your house. You land on the doorstep of the house, and before you can chicken out or before Helion reaches to knock, your hand reaches for the doorknob. When you open the door, you do so quietly. You know if either of you had knocked, it would be too easy to see who your mate is for just one or two of them, and you want everyone to meet him at once.

“You’re here!” one of the twins call to you, running into the room and halting as he sees Helion.

“Why are you gaping like a dead fish?” the other twin asks before he too sees Helion. Within seconds, your parents and your sister and her husband all stand in front of you.

“I’d like you to meet my mate,” you greet, gesturing to Helion. Your parents and siblings promptly drop into bows and curtsies, shock plastered across their faces.

“Please, don’t bow,” Helion implores. “Tonight, I’m not your High Lord.” They all rise curiously, glancing at you for confirmation, to which you give a small nod. He turns to your parents first. “I should be bowing to you. For blessing Prythian and me with this incredible female that is your daughter.” You sneak a glance at your mom. She has a hand to her chest as glittering silver lines her eyes when your mate takes your hand and brings the back of your palm to his lips. He has no shame and winks at you. This particular action is something he hadn’t done in weeks, though often enough you first were in his palace, but damn your smile and blush creeps up anyway. He smirks knowingly before turning to your older sister, her husband (one of Helion’s courtiers), and your younger twin brothers. “And I should thank you for helping her become fierce, kind, intelligent, and an absolute trouble maker.”

“ _Hey_!”

Your whole family laughs at his statement, and Helion only grins back at you, his glow flaring a bit as he completely meets your gaze. You pinch his arm, and he pulls you in closer at the waist.

“If I may, High Lord,” your father says, stepping up. Your father stares at you for what seems like hours, and you unintentionally bite your lip when he turns back to Helion. “Since she’s been living and working at the palace, there have been changes to her. She isn’t _as_ much of a trouble maker here—”

“Come on Dad,” you groan. He holds a hand up with a playful smile as everyone around you chuckles good naturedly.

“But, I have not seen her genuinely this content with her life and with who she is,” your father says in a quiet and soft voice. You try to swallow down your emotions. Memories of crying in your dad’s arms come back to you, about how you felt lost in life, unfulfilled, and jealous of those who, like your sister and brothers, had their life seemingly together. It wasn’t all the time, but there were some bad days that shadowed longer stretches of your youth. “She smiles much more, and dare I say, she’s glowing.” You can’t help the smile at your father’s joy, and Helion’s hand rubs your back. As if both males have the same thought, your father and Helion walk towards each other and shake hands. “I could not be more pleased with this, with you High Lord.”

Over wine and traditional, familiar Day Court foods, your family lounges and talks with you and your mate. They ask ridiculous questions, and your mate dishes them right back, making everyone laugh wholeheartedly. They argue over what authors and poets are the best, which fighting technique is the most effective, and which court (other than Day) they would rather be in. As your father and Helion walk off into the gardens, your mother sweeps over to you.

“Hello honey,” she greets, hugging you tight.

“So?” you ask, dying to know her thoughts on what was happening and _who_ your mate was, besides being their High Lord.

“You know your father and I lived through the first war, when the High Lord wasn’t yet a High Lord,” she begins. You’re not sure where she is going, but you nod all the same. “For a number of reasons that maybe your father will tell you later, he has always admired Helion. Not romantically, but otherwise,” she adds, making both of you chuckle. “You know how long it took your sister’s husband to get on your dad’s good side.” You nod understandingly, _years_ it had taken. “After you told us that you had a mate, when you left to go back to the palace, your dad went to the temples and offered thanks to the Mother and the Cauldron.”

You gape in shock. Your father, ever the critic and stoic cynic, hardly practiced any of the religious aspects of their culture unless it was any of the solstices.

“Does he make you happy?” your mother asks, rubbing your back with a soft smile.

“I can’t describe how he makes me feel,” you answer with a big smile. “‘Happy’ doesn’t even cover it.”

“Then that’s all that matters.” She hugs you tightly and brings you back in the dining room where your father and mate are returning as well. Helion flashes you a dazzling smile from across the room, and you’re pretty sure that your smile couldn’t get any bigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Lots of love ~ mysterious_victoria
> 
> Next prompt: On a mission in the mortal realm and staying in an inn with one bed


	6. Never Enough (Rhysand)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, and thanks for stopping by! Thank you to those who left kudos and comments--seriously made my day seeing those notifications! I'm so glad that you are all enjoying my writing, so send me requests if you want to see more. (My brain only has so many ideas left.)
> 
> Since I've last posted, ACOFAS has been released! Hooray! This series will be the emotional death of me (unless ToG/Kingdom of Ash does it first). 
> 
> So, this chapter was supposed to be the request made by Ashley Hutchinson, but I must apologize. Nessian is such a big OTP, and right now (mentally and emotionally) I can't get them down to paper in the way I'd like to do the prompt justice. The next chapter WILL be that request, but the muse and life isn't working in my favor on this one. 
> 
> But it's been months since I've posted. So, I wanted to give you all something to hold you over until then. This prompt started off quite short, and I was seriously putting off writing about this character since the beginning of this project. But then as I was reading something for uni last week, the thought struck me, and I just kept going. Title is a song from "The Greatest Showman" - I saw the music/lyric video on Facebook and was hooked. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Prompt: Kissing  
> Character: Rhysand

You hate the tears that fill your eyes and blur your vision as you turn on your heel. You just made a fool of yourself in front of the High Lord of the Night Court. There is no escaping it now. Except for maybe going to another court. Or hiding somewhere in the Illyrian Steppes.

Rhysand’s hand grabs your wrist and whirls you around to face him. “I would strongly advise against both of those options.”

You don’t know if you had accidentally lowered your shields—the ones he told you that you had and just not known about it—or if he just knows you that well to figure out you were debating mentally. But you make sure that those shields are strong and fortified. He is not going to get in.

“I’ll choose what I want. Let go of me.”

You’re shocked when his grip slackens completely and when you rip your hand from him, expecting some resistance. You stare at him, at that still partially outstretched hand… and walk away. The sense of overwhelming disappointment and reality hit you like an ash arrow. He’s Rhysand, but he’s a _High Lord,_ and you’re just a lowly tea seller in his territory, _no one_ —

“Choose me.”

You halt mid-step. There is _no_ way you heard that right, but you fear turning around. You fear the expression Rhysand is wearing, for knowing his true feelings, because if what he just said… “What?” you ask in a whisper.

“Choose me,” he repeats.

The fact that his voice sounds like he’s in pain makes you turn to him. He rarely shows his emotions in his expression, and the fact that you can clearly see the devastation and sadness written on his face makes you speak. “I can’t—”

He shakes his head, halting whatever excuse you were going to say, and assures you, “You can do anything you want.”

“But I’m just…”

“Just what?”

How do you even _begin_ to describe how you feel and _why_ he makes you feel the way you do? That you no longer feel insignificant, but renewed? Special? You push those thoughts and feelings that threaten to tumble out of you and think rationally. He is a _High Lord_.

“I’m just someone who works in the Palace of Hoof and Leaf. No one—”

“You are not ‘no one.’ You’re someone who’s effectively stolen my heart.”

“Rhysand, please,” you plead, your voice breaking at his admission.

He closes the distance between you two in a few measured strides, and when he tentatively cups your face in his callused hands, your heart begins to break. Those violet eyes roam over your face as if trying to memorize you, as if this would be the last time he sees you, and something changes as he looks directly in your eyes. His thumbs caress your cheekbones.

“Coming back from Under the Mountain,” he begins, his voice quiet and hoarse, “I couldn’t stand to be in Velaris, in this beautiful and pure city I had protected. I was… I wasn’t the same. I’m still not, and I won’t be the male who left the city fifty years ago.” You take hold of his wrists as he hesitates and looks away from you. To provide some form of comfort, reassurance, understanding—to show him that you see him, and you’re not afraid. “When I went into your shop, to get away from everything and everyone, you gave me a cup of tea and closed your shop. You gave me the solace I needed it, when I was at my worst. After that, I found myself wanting something. I wanted to go out, see my people, and I felt _something_. I felt alive. So every week, I made sure I saw you and went into your shop. And you just saw me. You knew who I was, but treated me no more or less than a friend—as you treated everyone else. I didn’t know then how much… how much I need and want to be with you.”

When Rhysand looks at you again with unshed tears in those bright violet eyes, your restraint vanishes. You throw yourself into him, hugging that strong body as fiercely as you can. He releases a shuddering breath next to your ear as his arms securely wrap around you. You clench the fine material of his shirt in your hands and pull him closer, to which he easily readjusts and allows you to do. This incredible male cares for _you_ in the same ways you do for him. Since that first time he walked into your tea shop, you hoped he would come back or that you would run into him in the streets of the vibrant city. Every time since that first encounter, his skin had become more golden tan, he walked with power and easiness in his stride, and the smile he would give you upon entering grew more and more genuine. He smells of citrus and the sea, and as you breathe him in, your head falls onto his shoulder. His hand slowly and gently strokes your unbound hair. You don’t know how long you stand there for, but you want to remain there, perfectly still in this moment. You want this to be the norm—this easiness, this intimacy, him.

“What are you thinking?” Rhys asks you, his breath tickling your ear.

As you slightly remove yourself, your lips can’t help but quirk up at his calmed face. “I want you to know how I feel, how I truly feel.”

You slowly cup one cheek in your hand, keeping eye contact with him, making sure he knows what you are doing and making sure that he is okay with it. He steps closer to you, his head tilting in your palm as he nods—the confirmation you need. You go up on tip-toe and kiss him. You feel his body shudder before he pulls you in at the waist and lifts your feet off the ground as he kisses you back. Your hands shoot up into his luscious hair, and a groan comes from the back of his throat when you weave your fingers through it. His hands grip you as he places you back on the ground, and he kisses you harder, biting your bottom lip—

“Holy Cauldron!”

An unearthly snarl rips from Rhys as he pulls his mouth away. He turns on the female voice, and you place your hands on his shoulders as he blocks your path and sight to this new Fae.

“I’ll come back another time,” the female voice comments, her voice calm and teasing. You sneak a glance over Rhys’s shoulder to see a stunning blonde female with her red lips curved into a smirk. _Holy Cauldron._

“That would be wise,” he says, cocking his head and his posture relaxing. She vanishes within an instant, and Rhys turns around to face you. He sighs in embarrassment, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. He gives you a quick, sheepish smile that makes your heart flutter. “I’m sorry.”

“Who was that?”

“My cousin.”

_His cousin!_ “Do you have a ridiculously attractive family?”

Rhys laughs at that, his face and mood seeming to lighten. “While Mor is quite attractive, and I certainly am, we’re the only ones.”

“I guess so. Especially when you’re embarrassed.”

“Oh really?” he questions, his voice like silk. It makes your toes curl in your shoes, and Rhys gives you a cruel, sensual smile. “I can think of a few ways I find you attractive.”

“Do tell,” you gasp out. But you gain your bravado for one more moment, and as Rhys opens his mouth, you place a finger to his lips. “Actually, I’d rather you show me.”

You swear his eyes sparkle like starlight in response as he smiles against your finger.

A week or so later, the attack on Velaris makes you realize, on an even larger scale, how much Rhysand has protected and continues to protect this city. Your city. Thanks to him and your brothers, you know some defensive tactics and how to wield certain weapons. But that day… by the end of it, you don’t know how to process what happened.

When the Palace of Hoof and Leaf was overtaken by those winged monsters, when a wave of night crashed over, you knew. You knew it was him. You shuddered in relief before you heard a horrible choking scream erupt from behind you. One of those vile winged creatures lay on the ground, mangled and lifeless on cobblestone at your feet when that wave of darkness moved on.

_Stay where you are. I’m coming back for you._

Tears escaped when you heard that voice in your head. As you watched the darkness move on, you knew what he had to do. So, after making sure your family was safe and cleaning up as much as you could in the street and in your shop, you told your younger sister where you were going and headed off into the town.

As you knock on the door to the townhouse, the golden-haired female—his cousin who interrupted your first kiss with Rhys—opens it, looking weary and utterly exhausted. Recognition lights up her eyes though, and she ushers you in.

“It’s not safe to be wandering the city yet,” she reprimands you as she shuts the door.

“I wanted to make sure he was all right,” you begin to explain. “I have some weapons on me if I needed them.” You don’t mention that they are small and probably, in the event, would not do much damage, but it’s a sufficient answer. That’s when you place your bag on a nearby table and start unpacking it. “But I think we all need a strong cup of tea.”

The golden-haired female looks back-and-forth between the bags of loose tea and you in astonishment. She swallows and nods. “Tea would be great right now.”

“Are the others in Rhys—I mean the High Lord’s Inner Circle going to be coming?” Her sly, mischievous smirk at your slip up makes you look away. “That’s five altogether?” You set Rhys’s favorite, Earl Grey tea, aside first before looking at exactly what you quickly brought. She laughs, albeit hoarsely, but it shocks you. “I meant no disrespect—”

“You can call him what you want,” she cuts you off, reining in her smirk. Not well, but even she, after all the destruction, is trying to be hospitable towards you. “On no account look at us for that. The Inner Circle I mean. We call him names far worse.”

This familiarity and openness she has with you is remarkable, and it relaxes you when you recognize this. But this is his cousin. How do you approach your… _well, what do you call your High Lord? What does_ he _call_ you _, to his friends and family?_ It’s too late in the night to be worrying about that. Or too early in the morning, you suppose, technically.

“Do the Illyrians drink tea?” you ask, attempting to move away from the conversation at hand. “I just brought the first bags I could find.”

“We will,” a hoarse voice answers from behind. You wheel around to see Rhysand’s two friends, the Illyrian warriors, coming through the door. Their chests are heaving, taking in as much of the air as they can. The Siphons are empty and dull in the early morning light.

The one with his hair pulled back into a half ponytail asks, “You’re the tea seller?” You nod. “Do you have chamomile?” You look through your five bags, and sure enough, one is chamomile. You nod again. “That would be most appreciated.” He nods at you before collapsing on the couch.

“If you have any kind of black tea, I’ll take that,” the golden-haired female says as she waves a hand. Five tea cups in their respective saucers appear on the small table in front of you.

You pull the bag of black tea closer to the chamomile and Earl Grey. “And what would you like?” you ask the other Illyrian who has not uttered a word. You are a bit startled to find him suddenly right next to you, his eyes looking over all of the teas. His eyes widen and the shadows that surround him flare as he takes the specialty oolong tea bag in his hands.

“It has been centuries since I had this,” he breathes. His eyes meet yours, and his intense stare sends goosebumps up your arms like a chill wind. “Where did you get this?”

“My father has a connection on the continent, and when the High Lord returned from Under the Mountain, I was able to order it. This is the first shipment we’ve had since… she was here and killed.” The three of them do not ask you who the ‘she’ is that you’re referring to, for their eyes suddenly grow cold and distant. They know very well. To drive out those memories and thoughts, you continue, “I would be honored if you have the first cup, as a thank you for helping protect the city.” The Illyrian bows his head in thanks or as confirmation, you’re not sure, but you smile at him anyway before he sits down.

You set strainers in every cup and begin measuring the loose teas when a small female in shredded clothes trudges into the townhouse. She stares at you, molten silver eyes piercing through you, and you force yourself to meet her stare. This is Rhys’s second, you realize, and you bow your head as respectfully and as deeply as you can, that presence radiating some other kind of magic from her. She cocks her head before giving you a small, cruel smile.

“The tea seller?” she asks.

“What gave it away?” you blurt and immediately regret saying it. You’re tired though. You haven’t slept in more than twenty-four hours. Bluntness, or stupidity, or both in this case could be excused.

But to your relief, she chuckles, albeit a bit breathlessly as she moves over to the couch where the silent Illyrian sits. “Thank the gods that at least you have a sense of humor.” She collapses next to him, and to his alarm, almost instantly falls asleep on his shoulder.   

“She won’t drink tea,” the golden-haired female says, shaking her head with a bemused smile.

“Right,” you say before shaking your head and continuing to measure out leaves.

The golden-haired female comes in with two pots of steaming water shortly after, and you pour into each cup, leaving Rhys’s for last. You’re handing the cups to their respective owners when Rhys enters in a plume of darkness and wrath. He halts in the room when his eyes meet yours. Your chest tightens before releasing a breath, relief flooding you at his presence. An image flashes in your mind—one of your family looking at him with surprise in their eyes. His intensified worry and fear of not finding you with them taints the memory.

“I told you to stay where you were.”

Oh, he is not happy.

“After all that happened today, after I _saw_ what you were doing, you’re surprised that I didn’t just stay put?” you say before thinking. You put the cup of tea into his cousin’s hands and take a step towards him, unintentionally placing your hands on your hips. Mercifully, it doesn’t look like he has a scratch on him, but you still had worried. Had come here to make sure that he returned in one piece. “Why couldn’t I come to you if I wanted to? I wanted to make sure _you_ were safe, not trying to be the sole hero again.”

He crosses the room in great strides as you talk, and when you finish, he is pulling you into an embrace. Wrapping your arms around him, you hold the High Lord as tightly as you can, especially when you feel that slight tremor from his body. The mix of sweat, metallic iron tang of blood, and citrus roll off of him, and he inhales deeply. You wonder what you smell like to him. Probably nothing appealing, considering just now, you realize you haven’t showered.

_Are you hurt?_

You shake your head, and this makes Rhys relax even more. He turns and kisses the top of your head as he continues to embrace you. He moves out of the embrace after long moments, keeping one hand on your lower back, and stares at the cups of tea and his friends and family before meeting your gaze.

“I thought you would need it after tonight, and I wanted to show my thanks,” you explain, quietly.

The others’ eyes are flitting between you and Rhys—you can sense it anyway—but the High Lord’s eyes unexpectedly shine with tears. He stares and stares at you with what you would call awe, and his voice is hoarse as he rubs your back. “Thank you.”

It feels like long hours that the High Lord and his court discuss and debate what to do next, what precautions to take, how to spread the news of the event… it boggles your mind, and you do feel bad when you catch yourself slightly dozing off. Rhys sends a trickle of warmth through your bond when you meet his eyes. He knows you are tired, but his eyes and those thoughts he sends to you assure you. He is thankful you are there. When Rhys’s Inner Circle finally disperses, you stand and start to clear the empty tea cups. However, before you can reach one, they are gone in a flash. You turn to Rhys who is staring at you intensely.

“Will you stay here?” he asks, quietly.

You give a half-shrug. “If you need… or want me to.”

“Of course I want you to stay, but it’s your choice.” He holds out his hand. Without hesitation, you walk over and lace your fingers through his. He says, “I had Nuala send a note to your house a while ago, to let your family know you were safe with me.”

“Thank you.”

He guides you up the simple staircase and down the hallway to a tastefully decorated room. The moonlight is filtering in through the transparent curtains of the balcony. You halt inside the door itself, making Rhys turn around from what you presume is his door.

“Is something—?”

“No,” you say, quickly. You swallow, rubbing your sweaty palms together. _Why are you nervous now, with him?_ “Nothing’s wrong.”

“But?” His voice is gentle, and your heart breaks.

“I don’t want to sleep by myself, not after today.” His eyes shutter, and his expression drops in understanding. You quickly walk over to him. “I want to be near you, be _with_ you. I don’t want to pressure you though, and I don’t want to do anything in bed. It’s just—”

“I didn’t want to pressure you,” he says, cutting you off. He rubs your arms consolingly. “By sleeping in the same bed I mean. After today, I want you to be with me and know you’re safe.” Rhys tries to give you a smirk, but it appears strained. “We can do the fun activities of the bed another night.”

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say so quietly you’re not even sure you said it out loud. But Rhys’s face changes, and his hands stop moving in the up-and-down motions. He takes your hands, leads you into the room, and gives you a pair of pajamas to change into before he begins to undress in the ensuite bathroom. When the two of you climb into the bed, his arms wrap around your front and pull you close. His lips trail soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, and you hold his hands, stroking your thumb across the back of his palms.

“You smell of cinnamon and clove, by the way. And I know it’s not just from the tea.”

You think about it for a moment and chuckle. That new shipment of chai tea you received yesterday now needs to be hidden from customers. “That matches well with your citrus scent.”

When you sneak a glance behind you, he is gazing down at you, wonder and starlight sparkling in his eyes. When he kisses you, warmth and love trickles down the bond that he created with you. He holds onto you tightly the rest of the night as you fade into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Lots of love ~ mysterious_victoria
> 
> Next prompt: (Nessian) On a mission in the mortal realm and staying in an inn with one bed


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